Waverley, Or 'Tis Sixty Years Hence, Complete
by
Sir Walter Scott
Part 7 out of 12
comrades.
CHAPTER VIII
WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS
The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was hurried along
nearly deprived him of sensation; for the injury he had received from his
fall prevented him from aiding himself so effectually as he might
otherwise have done. When this was observed by his conductors, they
called to their aid two or three others of the party, and, swathing our
hero's body in one of their plaids, divided his weight by that means
among them, and transported him at the same rapid rate as before, without
any exertion of his own. They spoke little, and that in Gaelic; and did
not slacken their pace till they had run nearly two miles, when they
abated their extreme rapidity, but continued still to walk very fast,
relieving each other occasionally.
Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only answered with 'Cha
n'eil Beurl agam' i.e. 'I have no English,' being, as Waverley well knew,
the constant reply of a Highlander when he either does not understand or
does not choose to reply to an Englishman or Lowlander. He then mentioned
the name of Vich lan Vohr, concluding that he was indebted to his
friendship for his rescue from the clutches of Gifted Gilfillan, but
neither did this produce any mark of recognition from his escort.
The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted upon the
brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly enlightened by the
moonbeams, seemed full of trees and tangled brushwood. Two of the
Highlanders dived into it by a small foot-path, as if to explore its
recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes, said something to
his companions, who instantly raised their burden and bore him, with
great attention and care, down the narrow and abrupt descent.
Notwithstanding their precautions, however, Waverley's person came more
than once into contact, rudely enough, with the projecting stumps and
branches which overhung the pathway.
At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by the side of a brook
(for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of water, although
its stream was invisible in the darkness), the party again stopped before
a small and rudely-constructed hovel. The door was open, and the inside
of the premises appeared as uncomfortable and rude as its situation and
exterior foreboded. There was no appearance of a floor of any kind; the
roof seemed rent in several places; the walls were composed of loose
stones and turf, and the thatch of branches of trees. The fire was in the
centre, and filled the whole wigwam with smoke, which escaped as much
through the door as by means of a circular aperture in the roof. An old
Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of this forlorn mansion, appeared
busy in the preparation of some food. By the light which the fire
afforded Waverley could discover that his attendants were not of the clan
of Ivor, for Fergus was particularly strict in requiring from his
followers that they should wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar
to their race; a mark of distinction anciently general through the
Highlands, and still maintained by those Chiefs who were proud of their
lineage or jealous of their separate and exclusive authority.
Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be aware of a distinction
which he had repeatedly heard noticed, and now satisfied that he had no
interest with, his attendants, he glanced a disconsolate eye around the
interior of the cabin. The only furniture, excepting a washing-tub and a
wooden press, called in Scotland an ambry, sorely decayed, was a large
wooden bed, planked, as is usual, all around, and opening by a sliding
panel. In this recess the Highlanders deposited Waverley, after he had by
signs declined any refreshment. His slumbers were broken and
unrefreshing; strange visions passed before his eyes, and it required
constant and reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them. Shivering,
violent headache, and shooting pains in his limbs succeeded these
symptoms; and in the morning it was evident to his Highland attendants or
guard, for he knew not in which light to consider them, that Waverley was
quite unfit to travel.
After a long consultation among themselves, six of the party left the hut
with their arms, leaving behind an old and a young man. The former
addressed Waverley, and bathed the contusions, which swelling and livid
colour now made conspicuous. His own portmanteau, which the Highlanders
had not failed to bring off, supplied him with linen, and to his great
surprise was, with all its undiminished contents, freely resigned to his
use. The bedding of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his aged
attendant closed the door of the bed, for it had no curtain, after a few
words of Gaelic, from which Waverley gathered that he exhorted him to
repose. So behold our hero for a second time the patient of a Highland
Esculapius, but in a situation much more uncomfortable than when he was
the guest of the worthy Tomanrait.
The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had sustained did
not abate till the third day, when it gave way to the care of his
attendants and the strength of his constitution, and he could now raise
himself in his bed, though not without pain. He observed, however, that
there was a great disinclination on the part of the old woman who acted
as his nurse, as well as on that of the elderly Highlander, to permit the
door of the bed to be left open, so that he might amuse himself with
observing their motions; and at length, after Waverley had repeatedly
drawn open and they had as frequently shut the hatchway of his cage, the
old gentleman put an end to the contest by securing it on the outside
with a nail so effectually that the door could not be drawn till this
exterior impediment was removed.
While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in persons whose
conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who, in all other points,
appeared to consult his welfare and his wishes, it occurred to our hero
that, during the worst crisis of his illness, a female figure, younger
than his old Highland nurse, had appeared to flit around his couch. Of
this, indeed, he had but a very indistinct recollection, but his
suspicions were confirmed when, attentively listening, he often heard, in
the course of the day, the voice of another female conversing in whispers
with his attendant. Who could it be? And why should she apparently desire
concealment? Fancy immediately aroused herself and turned to Flora
Mac-Ivor. But after a short conflict between his eager desire to believe
she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel of mercy, the couch
of his sickness, Waverley was compelled to conclude that his conjecture
was altogether improbable; since, to suppose she had left her
comparatively safe situation at Glennaquoich to descend into the Low
Country, now the seat of civil war, and to inhabit such a lurking-place
as this, was a thing hardly to be imagined. Yet his heart bounded as he
sometimes could distinctly hear the trip of a light female step glide to
or from the door of the hut, or the suppressed sounds of a female voice,
of softness and delicacy, hold dialogue with the hoarse inward croak of
old Janet, for so he understood his antiquated attendant was denominated.
Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in
contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in despite of the sedulous
caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he had never seen the
young fellow since the first morning. At length, upon accurate
examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison-house appeared to
supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, for out of a spot which was
somewhat decayed he was able to extract a nail. Through this minute
aperture he could perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act
of conversing with Janet. But, since the days of our grandmother Eve, the
gratification of inordinate curiosity has generally borne its penalty in
disappointment. The form was not that of Flora, nor was the face visible;
and, to crown his vexation, while he laboured with the nail to enlarge
the hole, that he might obtain a more complete view, a slight noise
betrayed his purpose, and the object of his curiosity instantly
disappeared, nor, so far as he could observe, did she again revisit the
cottage.
All precautions to blockade his view were from that time abandoned, and
he was not only permitted but assisted to rise, and quit what had been,
in a literal sense, his couch of confinement. But he was not allowed to
leave the hut; for the young Highlander had now rejoined his senior, and
one or other was constantly on the watch. Whenever Waverley approached
the cottage dooi the sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely, placed
himself against it and opposed his exit, accompanying his action with
signs which seemed to imply there was danger in the attempt and an enemy
in the neighbourhood. Old Janet appeared anxious and upon the watch; and
Waverley, who had not yet recovered strength enough to attempt to take
his departure in spite of the opposition of his hosts, was under the
necessity of remaining patient His fare was, in every point of view,
better than he could have conceived, for poultry, and even wine, were no
strangers to his table. The Highlanders never presumed to eat with him,
and, unless in the circumstance of watching him, treated him with great
respect. His sole amusement was gazing from the window, or rather the
shapeless aperture which was meant to answer the purpose of a window,
upon a large and rough brook, which raged and foamed through a rocky
channel, closely canopied with trees and bushes, about ten feet beneath
the site of his house of captivity.
Upon the sixth day of his confinement Waverley found himself so well that
he began to meditate his escape from this dull and miserable
prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in the attempt
preferable to the stupefying and intolerable uniformity of Janet's
retirement. The question indeed occurred, whither he was to direct his
course when again at his own disposal. Two schemes seemed practicable,
yet both attended with danger and difficulty. One was to go back to
Glennaquoich and join Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly
received; and in the present state of his mind, the rigour with which he
had been treated fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his allegiance
to the existing government. The other project was to endeavour to attain
a Scottish seaport, and thence to take shipping for England. His mind
wavered between these plans, and probably, if he had effected his escape
in the manner he proposed, he would have been finally determined by the
comparative facility by which either might have been executed. But his
fortune had settled that he was not to be left to his option.
Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut suddenly opened,
and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recognised as having been a
part of his original escort to this cottage. They conversed for a short
time with the old man and his companion, and then made Waverley
understand, by very significant signs, that he was to prepare to
accompany them. This was a joyful communication. What had already passed
during his confinement made it evident that no personal injury was
designed to him; and his romantic spirit, having recovered during his
repose much of that elasticity which anxiety, resentment, disappointment,
and the mixture of unpleasant feelings excited by his late adventures had
for a time subjugated, was now wearied with inaction. His passion for the
wonderful, although it is the nature of such dispositions to be excited
by that degree of danger which merely gives dignity to the feeling of the
individual exposed to it, had sunk under the extraordinary and apparently
insurmountable evils by which he appeared environed at Cairnvreckan. In
fact, this compound of intense curiosity and exalted imagination forms a
peculiar species of courage, which somewhat resembles the light usually
carried by a miner--sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him
guidance and comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but
certain to be extinguished should he encounter the more formidable hazard
of earth damps or pestiferous vapours. It was now, however, once more
rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture of hope, awe, and anxiety,
Waverley watched the group before him, as those who were just arrived
snatched a hasty meal, and the others assumed their arms and made brief
preparations for their departure.
As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire, around which
the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure upon his arm. He
looked round; it was Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. She showed
him a packet of papers in such a manner that the motion was remarked by
no one else, put her finger for a second to her lips, and passed on, as
if to assist old Janet in packing Waverley's clothes in his portmanteau.
It was obviously her wish that he should not seem to recognise her, yet
she repeatedly looked back at him, as an opportunity occurred of doing so
unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what she did, she folded
the packet with great address and speed in one of his shirts, which she
deposited in the portmanteau.
Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice his unknown warden,
and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that watched his bed
during his sickness? Was he in the hands of her father? and if so, what
was his purpose? Spoil, his usual object, seemed in this case neglected;
for not only Waverley's property was restored, but his purse, which might
have tempted this professional plunderer, had been all along suffered to
remain in his possession. All this perhaps the packet might explain; but
it was plain from Alice's manner that she desired he should consult it in
secret. Nor did she again seek his eye after she had satisfied herself
that her manoeuvre was observed and understood. On the contrary, she
shortly afterwards left the hut, and it was only as she tript out from
the door, that, favoured by the obscurity, she gave Waverley a parting
smile and nod of significance ere she vanished in the dark glen.
The young Highlander was repeatedly despatched by his comrades as if to
collect intelligence. At length, when he had returned for the third or
fourth time, the whole party arose and made signs to our hero to
accompany them. Before his departure, however, he shook hands with old
Janet, who had been so sedulous in his behalf, and added substantial
marks of his gratitude for her attendance.
'God bless you! God prosper you, Captain Waverley!' said Janet, in good
Lowland Scotch, though he had never hithero heard her utter a syllable,
save in Gaelic. But the impatience of his attendants prohibited his
asking any explanation.
CHAPTER IX
A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of the hut;
and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in Waverley's
awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall figure who had acted as
Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by whispers and signs imposed the
strictest silence. He delivered to Edward a sword and steel pistol, and,
pointing up the track, laid his hand on the hilt of his own claymore, as
if to make him sensible they might have occasion to use force to make
good their passage. He then placed himself at the head of the party, who
moved up the pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed
nearest to their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid
giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of the
ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard at no
great distance an English sentinel call out 'All's well.' The heavy sound
sunk on the night-wind down the woody glen, and was answered by the
echoes of its banks. A second, third, and fourth time the signal was
repeated fainter and fainter, as if at a greater and greater distance. It
was obvious that a party of soldiers were near, and upon their guard,
though not sufficiently so to detect men skilful in every art of
predatory warfare, like those with whom he now watched their ineffectual
precautions.
When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the Highlanders
began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious silence. Waverley
had little time, or indeed disposition, for observation, and could only
discern that they passed at some distance from a large building, in the
windows of which a light or two yet seemed to twinkle. A little farther
on the leading Highlander snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and
then made a signal to his party again to halt. He stooped down upon all
fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to be scarce distinguishable from
the heathy ground on which he moved, and advanced in this posture to
reconnoitre. In a short time he returned, and dismissed his attendants
excepting one; and, intimating to Waverley that he must imitate his
cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept forward on hands and knees.
After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than was at
all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived the smell of
smoke, which probably had been much sooner distinguished by the more
acute nasal organs of his guide. It proceeded from the corner of a low
and ruinous sheep-fold, the walls of which were made of loose stones, as
is usual in Scotland. Close by this low wall the Highlander guided
Waverley, and, in order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or
perhaps to obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he intimated to
him, by sign and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep into
the sheep-fold. Waverley did so, and beheld an outpost of four or five
soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all asleep except the
sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with his firelock on his
shoulder, which glanced red in the light of the fire as he crossed and
re-crossed before it in his short walk, casting his eye frequently to
that part of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto obscured by mist,
seemed now about to make her appearance.
In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes of
atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose and swept
before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and the night planet
poured her full effulgence upon a wide and blighted heath, skirted indeed
with copse-wood and stunted trees in the quarter from which they had
come, but open and bare to the observation of the sentinel in that to
which their course tended. The wall of the sheep-fold indeed concealed
them as they lay, but any advance beyond its shelter seemed impossible
without certain discovery.
The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the useful
light with Homer's, or rather Pope's benighted peasant, he muttered a
Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of MacFarlane's buat (i.e.
lantern) [Footnote: See Note 26]. He looked anxiously around for a few
minutes, and then apparently took his resolution. Leaving his attendant
with Waverley, after motioning to Edward to remain quiet, and giving his
comrade directions in a brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the
irregularity of the ground, in the same direction and in the same manner
as they had advanced. Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive
him crawling on all fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and never
passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the sentinel's
back was turned from him. At length he reached the thickets and underwood
which partly covered the moor in that direction, and probably extended to
the verge of the glen where Waverley had been so long an inhabitant. The
Highlander disappeared, but it was only for a few minutes, for he
suddenly issued forth from a different part of the thicket, and,
advancing boldly upon the open heath as if to invite discovery, he
levelled his piece and fired at the sentinel. A wound in the arm proved a
disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's meteorological
observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy Dawson,' which he was
whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, and his comrades, starting
up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards the spot from which the first
shot had issued. The Highlander, after giving them a full view of his
person, dived among the thickets, for his ruse de guerre had now
perfectly succeeded.
While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant, made
the best of his speed in that which his guide originally intended to
pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers being drawn to a
different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded. When they had run about
a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising ground which they had
surmounted concealed them from further risk of observation. They still
heard, however, at a distance the shouts of the soldiers as they hallooed
to each other upon the heath, and they could also hear the distant roll
of a drum beating to arms in the same direction. But these hostile sounds
were now far in their rear, and died away upon the breeze as they rapidly
proceeded.
When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and waste
ground of the same description, they came to the stump of an ancient oak,
which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one time a tree of very
large size. In an adjacent hollow they found several Highlanders, with a
horse or two. They had not joined them above a few minutes, which
Waverley's attendant employed, in all probability, in communicating the
cause of their delay (for the words 'Duncan Duroch' were often repeated),
when Duncan himself appeared, out of breath indeed, and with all the
symptoms of having run for his life, but laughing, and in high spirits at
the success of the stratagem by which he had baffled his pursuers. This
indeed Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter of no great
difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly acquainted with
the ground, and traced his course with a firmness and confidence to which
his pursuers must have been strangers. The alarm which he excited seemed
still to continue, for a dropping shot or two were heard at a great
distance, which seemed to serve as an addition to the mirth of Duncan and
his comrades.
The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted our
hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the journey were
happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted upon one of the horses, a
change which the fatigue of the night and his recent illness rendered
exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau was placed on another pony,
Duncan mounted a third, and they set forward at a round pace, accompanied
by their escort. No other incident marked the course of that night's
journey, and at the dawn of morning they attained the banks of a rapid
river. The country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep banks
of wood were broken by corn-fields, which this year presented an abundant
harvest, already in a great measure cut down.
On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a winding of
its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half-ruined turrets of
which were already glittering in the first rays of the sun. [Footnote:
See Note 27.] It was in form an oblong square, of size sufficient to
contain a large court in the centre. The towers at each angle of the
square rose higher than the walls of the building, and were in their turn
surmounted by turrets, differing in height and irregular in shape. Upon
one of these a sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the
wind, declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, which
floated from another tower, announced that the garrison was held by the
insurgent adherents of the House of Stuart.
Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their appearance
excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few peasants whom the
labours of the harvest began to summon from their repose, the party
crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of several arches, and, turning to
the left up an avenue of huge old sycamores, Waverley found himself in
front of the gloomy yet picturesque structure which he had admired at a
distance. A huge iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence of
the gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak and studded thickly with iron nails, being
next opened, admitted them into the interior court-yard. A gentleman,
dressed in the Highland garb and having a white cockade in his bonnet,
assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and with much courtesy bid
him welcome to the castle.
The governor, for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley to a
half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small camp-bed, and
having offered him any refreshment which he desired, was then about to
leave him.
'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after having made
the usual acknowledgment, 'by having the kindness to inform me where I
am, and whether or not I am to consider myself as a prisoner?'
'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I could wish.
Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in the district of
Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'
'And how am I assured of that?'
'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince Charles
Edward.' So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if to avoid further
discussion.
Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw himself upon
the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.
CHAPTER X
THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED
Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day was far advanced, and
he began to feel that he had passed many hours without food. This was
soon supplied in form of a copious breakfast, but Colonel Stewart, as if
wishing to avoid the queries of his guest, did not again present himself.
His compliments were, however, delivered by a servant, with an offer to
provide anything in his power that could be useful to Captain Waverley on
his journey, which he intimated would be continued that evening. To
Waverley's further inquiries, the servant opposed the impenetrable
barrier of real or affected ignorance and stupidity. He removed the table
and provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to his own meditations.
As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed to
delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the power of
directing his own motions, Edward's eye suddenly rested upon his
portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment during his sleep.
The mysterious appearance of Alice in the cottage of the glen immediately
rushed upon his mind, and he was about to secure and examine the packet
which she had deposited among his clothes, when the servant of Colonel
Stewart again made his appearance, and took up the portmanteau upon his
shoulders.
'May I not take out a change of linen, my friend?'
'Your honour sall get ane o' the Colonel's ain ruffled sarks, but this
maun gang in the baggage-cart.'
And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau, without
waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state where
disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery. In a few
minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged court-yard, and made no
doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at least, if not for
ever, of the only documents which seemed to promise some light upon the
dubious events which had of late influenced his destiny. With such
melancholy thoughts he had to beguile about four or five hours of
solitude.
When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard in the
court-yard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appearance to request
his guest to take some further refreshment before his departure. The
offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by no means left our hero
incapable of doing honour to dinner, which was now presented. The
conversation of his host was that of a plain country gentleman, mixed
with some soldier-like sentiments and expressions. He cautiously avoided
any reference to the military operations or civil politics of the time;
and to Waverley's direct inquiries concerning some of these points
replied, that he was not at liberty to speak upon such topics.
When dinner was finished the governor arose, and, wishing Edward a good
journey, said that, having been informed by Waverley's servant that his
baggage had been sent forward, he had taken the freedom to supply him
with such changes of linen as he might find necessary till he was again
possessed of his own. With this compliment he disappeared. A servant
acquainted Waverley an instant afterwards that his horse was ready.
Upon this hint he descended into the court-yard, and found a trooper
holding a saddled horse, on which he mounted and sallied from the portal
of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of armed men on horseback.
These had less the appearance of regular soldiers than of individuals who
had suddenly assumed arms from some pressing motive of unexpected
emergency. Their uniform, which was blue and red, an affected imitation
of that of French chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete, and sate
awkwardly upon those who wore it. Waverley's eye, accustomed to look at a
well-disciplined regiment, could easily discover that the motions and
habits of his escort were not those of trained soldiers, and that,
although expert enough in the management of their horses, their skill was
that of huntsmen or grooms rather than of troopers. The horses were not
trained to the regular pace so necessary to execute simultaneous and
combined movements and formations; nor did they seem bitted (as it is
technically expressed) for the use of the sword. The men, however, were
stout, hardy-looking fellows, and might be individually formidable as
irregular cavalry. The commander of this small party was mounted upon an
excellent hunter, and, although dressed in uniform, his change of apparel
did not prevent Waverley from recognising his old acquaintance, Mr.
Falconer of Balmawhapple.
Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with this gentleman
were none of the most friendly, he would have sacrificed every
recollection of their foolish quarrel for the pleasure of enjoying once
more the social intercourse of question and answer, from which he had
been so long secluded. But apparently the remembrance of his defeat by
the Baron of Bradwardine, of which Edward had been the unwilling cause,
still rankled in the mind of the low-bred and yet proud laird. He
carefully avoided giving the least sign of recognition, riding doggedly
at the head of his men, who, though scarce equal in numbers to a
sergeant's party, were denominated Captain Falconer's troop, being
preceded by a trumpet, which sounded from time to time, and a standard,
borne by Cornet Falconer, the laird's younger brother. The lieutenant, an
elderly man, had much the air of a low sportsman and boon companion; an
expression of dry humour predominated in his countenance over features of
a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual intemperance. His cocked hat was
set knowingly upon one side of his head, and while he whistled the 'Bob
of Dumblain,' under the influence of half a mutchkin of brandy, he seemed
to trot merrily forward, with a happy indifference to the state of the
country, the conduct of the party, the end of the journey, and all other
sublunary matters whatever.
From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse,
Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to beguile the
way with talk.
'A fine evening, sir,' was Edward's salutation.
'Ow, ay, sir! a bra' night,' replied the lieutenant, in broad Scotch of
the most vulgar description.
'And a fine harvest, apparently,' continued Waverley, following up his
first attack.
'Ay, the aits will be got bravely in; but the farmers, deil burst them,
and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude against them as has
horses till keep.'
'You perhaps act as quartermaster, sir?'
'Ay, quartermaster, riding-master, and lieutenant,' answered this officer
of all work. 'And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look after the breaking
and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that bought and sold
every ane o' them?'
'And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to know where
we are going just now?'
'A fule's errand, I fear,' answered this communicative personage.
'In that case,' said Waverley, determined not to spare civility, 'I
should have thought a person of your appearance would not have been found
on the road.'
'Vera true, vera true, sir,' replied the officer, 'but every why has its
wherefore. Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a' thir beasts frae me to
munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them according to the necessities
and prices of the time. But then he hadna the ready penny, and I hae been
advised his bond will not be worth a boddle against the estate, and then
I had a' my dealers to settle wi' at Martinmas; and so, as he very kindly
offered me this commission, and as the auld Fifteen [Footnote: The Judges
of the Supreme Court of Session in Scotland are proverbially termed among
the country people, The Fifteen.] wad never help me to my siller for
sending out naigs against the government, why, conscience! sir, I thought
my best chance for payment was e'en to GAE OUT [Footnote: See Note 28.]
mysell; and ye may judge, sir, as I hae dealt a' my life in halters, I
think na mickle o' putting my craig in peril of a Saint John-stone's
tippet.'
'You are not, then, by profession a soldier?' said Waverley.
'Na, na; thank God,' answered this doughty partizan, 'I wasna bred at sae
short a tether, I was brought up to hack and manger. I was bred a
horse-couper, sir; and if I might live to see you at Whitson-tryst, or at
Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick, and ye wanted a spanker that
would lead the field, I'se be caution I would serve ye easy; for Jamie
Jinker was ne'er the lad to impose upon a gentleman. Ye're a gentleman,
sir, and should ken a horse's points; ye see that through--ganging thing
that Balmawhapple's on; I selled her till him. She was bred out of
Lick-the-ladle, that wan the king's plate at Caverton-Edge, by Duke
Hamilton's White-Foot,' etc., etc., etc.
But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree of Balmawhapple's
mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire and great-grand-dam,
and while Waverley was watching for an opportunity to obtain from him
intelligence of more interest, the noble captain checked his horse until
they came up, and then, without directly appearing to notice Edward, said
sternly to the genealogist, 'I thought, lieutenant, my orders were
preceese, that no one should speak to the prisoner?'
The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and slunk to the
rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a vehement dispute upon
the price of hay with a farmer who had reluctantly followed his laird to
the field rather than give up his farm, whereof the lease had just
expired. Waverley was therefore once more consigned to silence,
foreseeing that further attempts at conversation with any of the party
would only give Balmawhapple a wished-for opportunity to display the
insolence of authority, and the sulky spite of a temper naturally dogged,
and rendered more so by habits of low indulgence and the incense of
servile adulation.
In about two hours' time the party were near the Castle of Stirling, over
whose battlements the union flag was brightened as it waved in the
evening sun. To shorten his journey, or perhaps to display his importance
and insult the English garrison, Balmawhapple, inclining to the right,
took his route through the royal park, which reaches to and surrounds the
rock upon which the fortress is situated.
With a mind more at ease Waverley could not have failed to admire the
mixture of romance and beauty which renders interesting the scene through
which he was now passing--the field which had been the scene of the
tournaments of old--the rock from which the ladies beheld the contest,
while each made vows for the success of some favourite knight--the towers
of the Gothic church, where these vows might be paid--and, surmounting
all, the fortress itself, at once a castle and palace, where valour
received the prize from royalty, and knights and dames closed the evening
amid the revelry of the dance, the song, and the feast. All these were
objects fitted to arouse and interest a romantic imagination.
But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an incident soon
occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind. Balmawhapple, in
the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little body of cavalry round
the base of the Castle, commanded his trumpet to sound a flourish and his
standard to be displayed. This insult produced apparently some sensation;
for when the cavalcade was at such distance from the southern battery as
to admit of a gun being depressed so as to bear upon them, a flash of
fire issued from one of the embrazures upon the rock; and ere the report
with which it was attended could be heard, the rushing sound of a
cannon-ball passed over Balmawhapple's head, and the bullet, burying
itself in the ground at a few yards' distance, covered him with the earth
which it drove up. There was no need to bid the party trudge. In fact,
every man, acting upon the impulse of the moment, soon brought Mr.
Jinker's steeds to show their mettle, and the cavaliers, retreating with
more speed than regularity, never took to a trot, as the lieutenant
afterwards observed, until an intervening eminence had secured them from
any repetition of so undesirable a compliment on the part of Stirling
Castle. I must do Balmawhapple, however, the justice to say that he not
only kept the rear of his troop, and laboured to maintain some order
among them, but, in the height of his gallantry, answered the fire of the
Castle by discharging one of his horse-pistols at the battlements;
although, the distance being nearly half a mile, I could never learn that
this measure of retaliation was attended with any particular effect.
The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn and reached
the Torwood, a place glorious or terrible to the recollections of the
Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace or the cruelties of Wude Willie
Grime predominate in his recollection. At Falkirk, a town formerly famous
in Scottish history, and soon to be again distinguished as the scene of
military events of importance, Balmawhapple proposed to halt and repose
for the evening. This was performed with very little regard to military
discipline, his worthy quarter-master being chiefly solicitous to
discover where the best brandy might be come at. Sentinels were deemed
unnecessary, and the only vigils performed were those of such of the
party as could procure liquor. A few resolute men might easily have cut
off the detachment; but of the inhabitants some were favourable, many
indifferent, and the rest overawed. So nothing memorable occurred in the
course of the evening, except that Waverley's rest was sorely interrupted
by the revellers hallooing forth their Jacobite songs, without remorse or
mitigation of voice.
Early in the morning they were again mounted and on the road to
Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop betrayed that
they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery. They halted at
Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace, which Sixty Years Since
was entire and habitable, and whose venerable ruins, NOT QUITE SIXTY
YEARS SINCE, very narrowly escaped the unworthy fate of being converted
into a barrack for French prisoners. May repose and blessings attend the
ashes of the patriotic statesman who, amongst his last services to
Scotland, interposed to prevent this profanation!
As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a champaign and
cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be heard. The distant yet
distinct report of heavy cannon, fired at intervals, apprized Waverley
that the work of destruction was going forward. Even Balmawhapple seemed
moved to take some precautions, by sending an advanced party in front of
his troop, keeping the main body in tolerable order, and moving steadily
forward.
Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, from which
they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy hill which slopes
eastward from the Castle. The latter, being in a state of siege, or
rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents, who had already occupied
the town for two or three days, fired at intervals upon such parties of
Highlanders as exposed themselves, either on the main street or elsewhere
in the vicinity of the fortress. The morning being calm and fair, the
effect of this dropping fire was to invest the Castle in wreaths of
smoke, the edges of which dissipated slowly in the air, while the central
veil was darkened ever and anon by fresh clouds poured forth from the
battlements; the whole giving, by the partial concealment, an appearance
of grandeur and gloom, rendered more terrific when Waverley reflected on
the cause by which it was produced, and that each explosion might ring
some brave man's knell.
Ere they approached the city the partial cannonade had wholly ceased.
Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the unfriendly greeting
which his troop had received from the battery at Stirling, had apparently
no wish to tempt the forbearance of the artillery of the Castle. He
therefore left the direct road, and, sweeping considerably to the
southward so as to keep out of the range of the cannon, approached the
ancient palace of Holyrood without having entered the walls of the city.
He then drew up his men in front of that venerable pile, and delivered
Waverley to the custody of a guard of Highlanders, whose officer
conducted him into the interior of the building.
A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures, affirmed
to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever flourished at all, lived
several hundred years before the invention of painting in oil colours,
served as a sort of guard chamber or vestibule to the apartments which
the adventurous Charles Edward now occupied in the palace of his
ancestors. Officers, both in the Highland and Lowland garb, passed and
repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall as if waiting for orders.
Secretaries were engaged in making out passes, musters, and returns. All
seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon something of importance; but
Waverley was suffered to remain seated in the recess of a window,
unnoticed by any one, in anxious reflection upon the crisis of his fate,
which seemed now rapidly approaching.
CHAPTER XI
AN OLD AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the rustle of tartans was heard
behind him, a friendly arm clasped his shoulders, and a friendly voice
exclaimed,
'Said the Highland prophet sooth? Or must second-sight go for nothing?'
Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fergus Mac-Ivor. 'A thousand
welcomes to Holyrood, once more possessed by her legitimate sovereign!
Did I not say we should prosper, and that you would fall into the hands
of the Philistines if you parted from us?'
'Dear Fergus!' said Waverley, eagerly returning his greeting. 'It is long
since I have heard a friend's voice. Where is Flora?'
'Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success.'
'In this place?' said Waverley.
'Ay, in this city at least,' answered his friend, 'and you shall see her;
but first you must meet a friend whom you little think of, who has been
frequent in his inquiries after you.'
Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arm out of the guard chamber,
and, ere he knew where he was conducted, Edward found himself in a
presence room, fitted up with some attempt at royal state.
A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished by the dignity of
his mien and the noble expression of his well-formed and regular
features, advanced out of a circle of military gentlemen and Highland
chiefs by whom he was surrounded. In his easy and graceful manners
Waverley afterwards thought he could have discovered his high birth and
rank, although the star on his breast and the embroidered garter at his
knee had not appeared as its indications.
'Let me present to your Royal Highness,' said Fergus, bowing profoundly--
'The descendant of one of the most ancient and loyal families in
England,' said the young Chevalier, interrupting him. 'I beg your pardon
for interrupting you, my dear Mac-Ivor; but no master of ceremonies is
necessary to present a Waverley to a Stuart.'
Thus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with the utmost courtesy, who
could not, had he desired it, have avoided rendering him the homage which
seemed due to his rank, and was certainly the right of his birth. 'I am
sorry to understand, Mr. Waverley, that, owing to circumstances which
have been as yet but ill explained, you have suffered some restraint
among my followers in Perthshire and on your march here; but we are in
such a situation that we hardly know our friends, and I am even at this
moment uncertain whether I can have the pleasure of considering Mr.
Waverley as among mine.'
He then paused for an instant; but before Edward could adjust a suitable
reply, or even arrange his ideas as to its purport, the Prince took out a
paper and then proceeded:--'I should indeed have no doubts upon this
subject if I could trust to this proclamation, set forth by the friends
of the Elector of Hanover, in which they rank Mr. Waverley among the
nobility and gentry who are menaced with the pains of high-treason for
loyalty to their legitimate sovereign. But I desire to gain no adherents
save from affection and conviction; and if Mr. Waverley inclines to
prosecute his journey to the south, or to join the forces of the Elector,
he shall have my passport and free permission to do so; and I can only
regret that my present power will not extend to protect him against the
probable consequences of such a measure. But,' continued Charles Edward,
after another short pause, 'if Mr. Waverley should, like his ancestor,
Sir Nigel, determine to embrace a cause which has little to recommend it
but its justice, and follow a prince who throws himself upon the
affections of his people to recover the throne of his ancestors or perish
in the attempt, I can only say, that among these nobles and gentlemen he
will find worthy associates in a gallant enterprise, and will follow a
master who may be unfortunate, but, I trust, will never be ungrateful.'
The politic Chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his advantage in
introducing Waverley to this personal interview with the royal
adventurer. Unaccustomed to the address and manners of a polished court,
in which Charles was eminently skilful, his words and his kindness
penetrated the heart of our hero, and easily outweighed all prudential
motives. To be thus personally solicited for assistance by a prince whose
form and manners, as well as the spirit which he displayed in this
singular enterprise, answered his ideas of a hero of romance; to be
courted by him in the ancient halls of his paternal palace, recovered by
the sword which he was already bending towards other conquests, gave
Edward, in his own eyes, the dignity and importance which he had ceased
to consider as his attributes. Rejected, slandered, and threatened upon
the one side, he was irresistibly attracted to the cause which the
prejudices of education and the political principles of his family had
already recommended as the most just. These thoughts rushed through his
mind like a torrent, sweeping before them every consideration of an
opposite tendency,--the time, besides, admitted of no deliberation,--and
Waverley, kneeling to Charles Edward, devoted his heart and sword to the
vindication of his rights!
The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and follies of his
forefathers, we shall here and elsewhere give him the title due to his
birth) raised Waverley from the ground and embraced him with an
expression of thanks too warm not to be genuine. He also thanked Fergus
Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having brought him such an adherent, and
presented Waverley to the various noblemen, chieftains, and officers who
were about his person as a young gentleman of the highest hopes and
prospects, in whose bold and enthusiastic avowal of his cause they might
see an evidence of the sentiments of the English families of rank at this
important crisis. [Footnote: See Note 29.] Indeed, this was a point much
doubted among the adherents of the house of Stuart; and as a well-founded
disbelief in the cooperation of the English Jacobites kept many Scottish
men of rank from his standard, and diminished the courage of those who
had joined it, nothing could be more seasonable for the Chevalier than
the open declaration in his favour of the representative of the house of
Waverley-Honour, so long known as Cavaliers and Royalists. This Fergus
had foreseen from the beginning. He really loved Waverley, because their
feelings and projects never thwarted each other; he hoped to see him
united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were effectually engaged in
the same cause. But, as we before hinted, he also exulted as a politician
in beholding secured to his party a partizan of such consequence; and he
was far from being insensible to the personal importance which he himself
gained with the Prince from having so materially assisted in making the
acquisition.
Charles Edward, on his part, seemed eager to show his attendants the
value which he attached to his new adherent, by entering immediately, as
in confidence, upon the circumstances of his situation. 'You have been
secluded so much from intelligence, Mr. Waverley, from causes of which I
am but indistinctly informed, that I presume you are even yet
unacquainted with the important particulars of my present situation. You
have, however, heard of my landing in the remote district of Moidart,
with only seven attendants, and of the numerous chiefs and clans whose
loyal enthusiasm at once placed a solitary adventurer at the head of a
gallant army. You must also, I think, have learned that the
commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian Elector, Sir John Cope, marched into
the Highlands at the head of a numerous and well-appointed military force
with the intention of giving us battle, but that his courage failed him
when we were within three hours' march of each other, so that he fairly
gave us the slip and marched northward to Aberdeen, leaving the Low
Country open and undefended. Not to lose so favourable an opportunity, I
marched on to this metropolis, driving before me two regiments of horse,
Gardiner's and Hamilton's, who had threatened to cut to pieces every
Highlander that should venture to pass Stirling; and while discussions
were carrying forward among the magistracy and citizens of Edinburgh
whether they should defend themselves or surrender, my good friend
Lochiel (laying his hand on the shoulder of that gallant and accomplished
chieftain) saved them the trouble of farther deliberation by entering the
gates with five hundred Camerons. Thus far, therefore, we have done well;
but, in the meanwhile, this doughty general's nerves being braced by the
keen air of Aberdeen, he has taken shipping for Dunbar, and I have just
received certain information that he landed there yesterday. His purpose
must unquestionably be to march towards us to recover possession of the
capital. Now there are two opinions in my council of war: one, that being
inferior probably in numbers, and certainly in discipline and military
appointments, not to mention our total want of artillery and the weakness
of our cavalry, it will be safest to fall back towards the mountains, and
there protract the war until fresh succours arrive from France, and the
whole body of the Highland clans shall have taken arms in our favour. The
opposite opinion maintains, that a retrograde movement, in our
circumstances, is certain to throw utter discredit on our arms and
undertaking; and, far from gaining us new partizans, will be the means of
disheartening those who have joined our standard. The officers who use
these last arguments, among whom is your friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, maintain
that, if the Highlanders are strangers to the usual military discipline
of Europe, the soldiers whom they are to encounter are no less strangers
to their peculiar and formidable mode of attack; that the attachment and
courage of the chiefs and gentlemen are not to be doubted; and that, as
they will be in the midst of the enemy, their clansmen will as surely
follow them; in fine, that having drawn the sword we should throw away
the scabbard, and trust our cause to battle and to the God of battles.
Will Mr. Waverley favour us with his opinion in these arduous
circumstances?'
Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modesty at the distinction
implied in this question, and answered, with equal spirit and readiness,
that he could not venture to offer an opinion as derived from military
skill, but that the counsel would be far the most acceptable to him which
should first afford him an opportunity to evince his zeal in his Royal
Highness's service.
'Spoken like a Waverley!' answered Charles Edward; 'and that you may hold
a rank in some degree corresponding to your name, allow me, instead of
the captain's commission which you have lost, to offer you the brevet
rank of major in my service, with the advantage of acting as one of my
aides-de-camp until you can be attached to a regiment, of which I hope
several will be speedily embodied.'
'Your Royal Highness will forgive me,' answered Waverley (for his
recollection turned to Balmawhapple and his scanty troop), 'if I decline
accepting any rank until the time and place where I may have interest
enough to raise a sufficient body of men to make my command useful to
your Royal Highness's service. In the meanwhile, I hope for your
permission to serve as a volunteer under my friend Fergus Mac-Ivor.'
'At least,' said the Prince, who was obviously pleased with this
proposal, 'allow me the pleasure of arming you after the Highland
fashion.' With these words, he unbuckled the broadsword which he wore,
the belt of which was plaited with silver, and the steel basket-hilt
richly and curiously inlaid. 'The blade,' said the Prince, 'is a genuine
Andrea Ferrara; it has been a sort of heirloom in our family; but I am
convinced I put it into better hands than my own, and will add to it
pistols of the same workmanship. Colonel Mac-Ivor, you must have much to
say to your friend; I will detain you no longer from your private
conversation; but remember we expect you both to attend us in the
evening. It may be perhaps the last night we may enjoy in these halls,
and as we go to the field with a clear conscience, we will spend the eve
of battle merrily.'
Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the presence-chamber.
CHAPTER XII
THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP
'How do you like him?' was Fergus's first question, as they descended the
large stone staircase.
'A prince to live and die under' was Waverley's enthusiastic answer.
'I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended you should
have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain. And yet he has his
foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play, and his Irish
officers, [Footnote: See Note 30.] who are much about him, are but sorry
advisers: they cannot discriminate among the numerous pretensions that
are set up. Would you think it--I have been obliged for the present to
suppress an earl's patent, granted for services rendered ten years ago,
for fear of exciting the jealousy, forsooth, of C----and M----? But you
were very right, Edward, to refuse the situation of aide-de-camp. There
are two vacant, indeed, but Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of us,
have requested one for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and the
Irish party are equally desirous to have the other for the master of F--.
Now, if either of these candidates were to be superseded in your favour,
you would make enemies. And then I am surprised that the Prince should
have offered you a majority, when he knows very well that nothing short
of lieutenant-colonel will satisfy others, who cannot bring one hundred
and fifty men to the field. "But patience, cousin, and shuffle the
cards!" It is all very well for the present, and we must have you
properly equipped for the evening in your new costume; for, to say truth,
your outward man is scarce fit for a court.'
'Why,' said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress,'my shooting jacket has
seen service since we parted; but that probably you, my friend, know as
well or better than I.'
'You do my second-sight too much honour,' said Fergus. 'We were so busy,
first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and afterwards with our
operations in the Lowlands, that I could only give general directions to
such of our people as were left in Perthshire to respect and protect you,
should you come in their way. But let me hear the full story of your
adventures, for they have reached us in a very partial and mutilated
manner.'
Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the reader
is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great attention. By
this time they had reached the door of his quarters, which he had taken
up in a small paved court, retiring from the street called the Canongate,
at the house of a buxom widow of forty, who seemed to smile very
graciously upon the handsome young Chief, she being a person with whom
good looks and good-humour were sure to secure an interest, whatever
might be the party's "political opinions". Here Callum Beg received them
with a smile of recognition. 'Callum,' said the Chief, 'call Shemus an
Snachad' (James of the Needle). This was the hereditary tailor of Vich
lan Vohr. 'Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear the cath dath (battle colour,
or tartan); his trews must be ready in four hours. You know the measure
of a well-made man--two double nails to the small of the leg--'
'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist. I give your honour
leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the Highlands that
has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the cumadh an truais' (shape of the
trews).
'Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan and sash,' continued the Chieftain, 'and
a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr. Mouat's in the Crames. My
short green coat, with silver lace and silver buttons, will fit him
exactly, and I have never worn it. Tell Ensign Maccombich to pick out a
handsome target from among mine. The Prince has given Mr. Waverley
broadsword and pistols, I will furnish him with a dirk and purse; add but
a pair of low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward (turning to him),
you will be a complete son of Ivor.'
These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the subject of
Waverley's adventures. 'It is plain,' he said,'that you have been in the
custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know that, when I marched away my
clan to join the Prince, I laid my injunctions on that worthy member of
society to perform a certain piece of service, which done, he was to join
me with all the force he could muster. But, instead of doing so, the
gentleman, finding the coast clear, thought it better to make war on his
own account, and has scoured the country, plundering, I believe, both
friend and foe, under pretence of levying blackmail, sometimes as if by
my authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his consummate impudence)
in his own great name! Upon my honour, if I live to see the cairn of
Benmore again, I shall be tempted to hang that fellow! I recognise his
hand particularly in the mode of your rescue from that canting rascal
Gilfillan, and I have little doubt that Donald himself played the part of
the pedlar on that occasion; but how he should not have plundered you, or
put you to ransom, or availed himself in some way or other of your
captivity for his own advantage, passes my judgment.'
'When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confinement?' asked
Waverley.
'The Prince himself told me,' said Fergus, 'and inquired very minutely
into your history. He then mentioned your being at that moment in the
power of one of our northern parties--you know I could not ask him to
explain particulars--and requested my opinion about disposing of you. I
recommended that you should be brought here as a prisoner, because I did
not wish to prejudice you farther with the English government, in case
you pursued your purpose of going southward. I knew nothing, you must
recollect, of the charge brought against you of aiding and abetting high
treason, which, I presume, had some share in changing your original plan.
That sullen, good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple, was sent to escort you
from Doune, with what he calls his troop of horse. As to his behaviour,
in addition to his natural antipathy to everything that resembles a
gentleman, I presume his adventure with Bradwardine rankles in his
recollection, the rather that I daresay his mode of telling that story
contributed to the evil reports which reached your quondam regiment.'
'Very likely,' said Waverley; 'but now surely, my dear Fergus, you may
find time to tell me something of Flora.'
'Why,' replied Fergus, 'I can only tell you that she is well, and
residing for the present with a relation in this city. I thought it
better she should come here, as since our success a good many ladies of
rank attend our military court; and I assure you that there is a sort of
consequence annexed to the near relative of such a person as Flora
Mac-Ivor, and where there is such a justling of claims and requests, a
man must use every fair means to enhance his importance.'
There was something in this last sentence which grated on Waverley's
feelings. He could not bear that Flora should be considered as conducing
to her brother's preferment by the admiration which she must
unquestionably attract; and although it was in strict correspondence with
many points of Fergus's character, it shocked him as selfish, and
unworthy of his sister's high mind and his own independent pride. Fergus,
to whom such manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at the French
court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which he had unwarily
made upon his friend's mind, and concluded by saying,' that they could
hardly see Flora before the evening, when she would be at the concert and
ball with which the Prince's party were to be entertained. She and I had
a quarrel about her not appearing to take leave of you. I am unwilling to
renew it by soliciting her to receive you this morning; and perhaps my
doing so might not only be ineffectual, but prevent your meeting this
evening.'
While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the windows of
the parlour, a well-known voice. 'I aver to you, my worthy friend,' said
the speaker, 'that it is a total dereliction of military discipline; and
were you not as it were a tyro, your purpose would deserve strong
reprobation. For a prisoner of war is on no account to be coerced with
fetters, or debinded in ergastulo, as would have been the case had you
put this gentleman into the pit of the peel-house at Balmawhapple. I
grant, indeed, that such a prisoner may for security be coerced in
carcere, that is, in a public prison.'
The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in
displeasure, but the word 'land-louper' alone was distinctly audible. He
had disappeared before Waverley reached the house in order to greet the
worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform in which he was now attired, a
blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and
immense jack-boots, seemed to have added fresh stiffness and rigidity to
his tall, perpendicular figure; and the consciousness of military command
and authority had increased, in the same proportion, the self-importance
of his demeanour and the dogmatism of his conversation.
He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed immediate
anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances attending the loss of
his commission in Gardiner's dragoons; 'not,' he said, 'that he had the
least apprehension of his young friend having done aught which could
merit such ungenerous treatment as he had received from government, but
because it was right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be,
in point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all
calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so much right
to regard as his own son.'
Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over the
circumstances of Waverley's story, and concluded with the flattering
reception he had met from the young Chevalier. The Baron listened in
silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley heartily by the hand and
congratulated him upon entering the service of his lawful Prince. 'For,'
continued he, 'although it has been justly held in all nations a matter
of scandal and dishonour to infringe the sacramentum militare, and that
whether it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans denominated
per conjurationem, or by one soldier in name of the rest, yet no one ever
doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by the dimissio, or
discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as hard as that of
colliers, salters, and other adscripti glebes, or slaves of the soil,
were it to be accounted otherwise. This is something like the brocard
expressed by the learned Sanchez in his work "De Jure-jurando" which you
have questionless consulted upon this occasion. As for those who have
calumniated you by leasing-making, I protest to Heaven I think they have
justly incurred the penalty of the "Memnonia Lex," also called "Lex
Rhemnia," which is prelected upon by Tullius in his oration "In Verrem."
I should have deemed, however, Mr. Waverley, that before destining
yourself to any special service in the army of the Prince, ye might have
inquired what rank the old Bradwardine held there, and whether he would
not have been peculiarly happy to have had your services in the regiment
of horse which he is now about to levy.' Edward eluded this reproach by
pleading the necessity of giving an immediate answer to the Prince's
proposal, and his uncertainty at the moment whether his friend the Baron
was with the army or engaged upon service elsewhere.
This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss
Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with Flora
Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain's men. This step was
indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a very unpleasant, and even
dangerous, place of residence for an unprotected young lady, on account
of its vicinity to the Highlands, and also to one or two large villages
which, from aversion as much to the caterans as zeal for presbytery, had
declared themselves on the side of government, and formed irregular
bodies of partizans, who had frequent skirmishes with the mountaineers,
and sometimes attacked the houses of the Jacobite gentry in the braes, or
frontier betwixt the mountain and plain.
'I would propose to you,' continued the Baron,'to walk as far as my
quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your passage the High
Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, finer than any street
whether in London or Paris. But Rose, poor thing, is sorely discomposed
with the firing of the Castle, though I have proved to her from Blondel
and Coehorn, that it is impossible a bullet can reach these buildings;
and, besides, I have it in charge from his Royal Highness to go to the
camp, or leaguer of our army, to see that the men do condamare vasa, that
is, truss up their bag and baggage for tomorrow's march.'
'That will be easily done by most of us,' said Mac-Ivor, laughing.
'Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as ye seem to
opine. I grant most of your folk left the Highlands expedited as it were,
and free from the incumbrance of baggage; but it is unspeakable the
quantity of useless sprechery which they have collected on their march. I
saw one fellow of yours (craving your pardon once more) with a pier-glass
upon his back.'
'Ay,' said Fergus, still in good-humour, 'he would have told you, if you
had questioned him, "a ganging foot is aye getting." But come, my dear
Baron, you know as well as I that a hundred Uhlans, or a single troop of
Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make more havoc in a country than the
knight of the mirror and all the rest of our clans put together.'
'And that is very true likewise,' replied the Baron; 'they are, as the
heathen author says, ferociores in aspectu, mitiores in actu, of a horrid
and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than their physiognomy or
aspect might infer. But I stand here talking to you two youngsters when I
should be in the King's Park.'
'But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return? I assure you,
Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must, I remember my
Paris education, and understand perfectly faire la meilleure chere.'
'And wha the deil doubts it,' quoth the Baron, laughing, 'when ye bring
only the cookery and the gude toun must furnish the materials? Weel, I
have some business in the toun too; but I'll join you at three, if the
vivers can tarry so long.'
So saying, he took leave of his friends and went to look after the charge
which had been assigned him.
CHAPTER XIII
A SOLDIER'S DINNER
James of the Needle was a man of his word when whisky was no party to the
contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who still thought himself in
Waverley's debt, since he had declined accepting compensation at the
expense of mine host of the Candlestick's person, took the opportunity of
discharging the obligation, by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor
of Sliochd nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself, 'targed him tightly'
till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of this restraint, Shemus's
needle flew through the tartan like lightning; and as the artist kept
chanting some dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul, he accomplished at least
three stitches to the death of every hero. The dress was, therefore, soon
ready, for the short coat fitted the wearer, and the rest of the apparel
required little adjustment.
Our hero having now fairly assumed the 'garb of old Gaul,' well
calculated as it was to give an appearance of strength to a figure which,
though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than robust, I hope my fair
readers will excuse him if he looked at himself in the mirror more than
once, and could not help acknowledging that the reflection seemed that of
a very handsome young fellow. In fact, there was no disguising it. His
light-brown hair--for he wore no periwig, notwithstanding the universal
fashion of the time--became the bonnet which surmounted it. His person
promised firmness and agility, to which the ample folds of the tartan
added an air of dignity. His blue eye seemed of that kind,
Which melted in love, and which kindled in war;
and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want of
habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his features,
without injuring their grace or intelligence.
'He's a pratty man, a very pratty man,' said Evan Dhu (now Ensign
Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.
'He's vera weel,' said the Widow Flockhart, 'but no naething sae
weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign.'
'I wasna comparing them,' quoth Evan, 'nor was I speaking about his being
weel-favoured; but only that Mr. Waverley looks clean-made and deliver,
and like a proper lad o' his quarters, that will not cry barley in a
brulzie. And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at the broadsword and target. I
hae played wi' him mysell at Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich lan Vohr,
often of a Sunday afternoon.'
'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,' said the alarmed Presbyterian; 'I'm
sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that!'
'Hout! hout! Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the ensign, 'we're young blude, ye
ken; and young saints, auld deils.'
'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Maccombich?'
demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest.
'Troth I'se ensure him, an he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the
Gael.
'And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, Ensign Maccombich?'
again inquired the landlady.
'Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the deevil
tak the shortest nails.'
'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'
'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be, by Saint
Phedar.'
'Merciful goodness! and if he's killed amang the redcoats!' exclaimed the
soft-hearted widow.
'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that will no
be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day, and have our
dinner; and there's Vich lan Vohr has packed his dorlach, and Mr.
Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the muckle pier-glass; and
that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o' Bradwardine that shot young
Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming down the close wi' that droghling
coghling bailie body they ca' Macwhupple, just like the Laird o'
Kittlegab's French cook, wi' his turnspit doggie trindling ahint him, and
I am as hungry as a gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the broo',
and do ye put on your pinners, for ye ken Vich lan Vohr winna sit down
till ye be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the pint bottle o'
brandy, my woman.'
This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds like the
sun through a mist, took the head of the table, thinking within herself,
perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion lasted that brought
her into company so much above her usual associates. She was supported by
Waverley and the Baron, with the advantage of the Chieftain vis-a-vis.
The men of peace and of war, that is, Bailie Macwheeble and Ensign
Maccombich, after many profound conges to their superiors and each other,
took their places on each side of the Chieftain. Their fare was
excellent, time, place, and circumstances considered, and Fergus's
spirits were extravagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine from
temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination all his prospects
crowned with success, and was totally indifferent to the probable
alternative of a soldier's grave. The Baron apologized slightly for
bringing Macwheeble. They had been providing, he said, for the expenses
of the campaign. 'And, by my faith,' said the old man, 'as I think this
will be my last, so I just end where I began: I hae evermore found the
sinews of war, as a learned author calls the caisse mttitaire, mair
difficult to come by than either its flesh, blood, or bones.'
'What! have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry and got ye none
of the louis-d'or out of the Doutelle [Footnote: The Doutelle was an
armed vessel which brought a small supply of money and arms from France
for the use of the insurgents.] to help you?'
'No, Glennaquoich; cleverer fellows have been before me.'
'That's a scandal,' said the young Highlander; 'but you will share what
is left of my subsidy; it will save you an anxious thought tonight, and
will be all one tomorrow, for we shall all be provided for, one way or
other, before the sun sets.' Waverley, blushing deeply, but with great
earnestness, pressed the same request.
'I thank ye baith, my good lads,' said the Baron, 'but I will not
infringe upon your peculium. Bailie Macwheeble has provided the sum which
is necessary.'
Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and appeared
extremely uneasy. At length, after several preliminary hems, and much
tautological expression of his devotion to his honour's service, by night
or day, living or dead, he began to insinuate, 'that the banks had
removed a' their ready cash into the Castle; that, nae doubt, Sandie
Goldie, the silversmith, would do mickle for his honour; but there was
little time to get the wadset made out; and, doubtless, if his honour
Glennaquoich or Mr. Wauverley could accommodate--'
'Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,' said the Baron, in a tone which
rendered Macwheeble mute, 'but proceed as we accorded before dinner, if
it be your wish to remain in my service.'
To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if condemned to
suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins into those of the Baron,
did not presume to make any reply. After fidgeting a little while longer,
however, he addressed himself to Glennaquoich, and told him, if his
honour had mair ready siller than was sufficient for his occasions in the
field, he could put it out at use for his honour in safe hands and at
great profit at this time.
At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he had
recovered his breath--'Many thanks, Bailie; but you must know, it is a
general custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our banker. Here,
Mrs. Flockhart,' said he, taking four or five broad pieces out of a
well-filled purse and tossing the purse itself, with its remaining
contents, into her apron, 'these will serve my occasions; do you take the
rest. Be my banker if I live, and my executor if I die; but take care to
give something to the Highland cailliachs [Footnote: Old women, on whom
devolved the duty of lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call
keening.] that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich lan
Vohr.'
'It is the testamentum militare,' quoth the Baron, 'whilk, amang the
Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.' But the soft heart of Mrs.
Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain's speech; she set up a
lamentable blubbering, and positively refused to touch the bequest, which
Fergus was therefore obliged to resume.
'Well, then,' said the Chief, 'if I fall, it will go to the grenadier
that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he works hard for it.'
Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where cash was
concerned he did not willingly remain silent. 'Perhaps he had better
carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of mortality or accidents of
war. It might tak the form of a mortis causa donation in the young
leddie's favour, and--wad cost but the scrape of a pen to mak it out.'
'The young lady,' said Fergus,'should such an event happen, will have
other matters to think of than these wretched louis-d'or.'
'True--undeniable--there's nae doubt o' that; but your honour kens that a
full sorrow--'
'Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one? True, Bailie,
very true; and I believe there may even be some who would be consoled by
such a reflection for the loss of the whole existing generation. But
there is a sorrow which knows neither hunger nor thirst; and poor
Flora--' He paused, and the whole company sympathised in his emotion.
The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state of his
daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye. 'If I fall,
Macwheeble, you have all my papers and know all my affairs; be just to
Rose.'
The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of dirt and
dross about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just feelings he had,
especially where the Baron or his young mistress were concerned. He set
up a lamentable howl. 'If that doleful day should come, while Duncan
Macwheeble had a boddle it should be Miss Rose's. He wald scroll for a
plack the sheet or she kenn'd what it was to want; if indeed a' the
bonnie baronie o' Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the fortalice and
manor-place thereof (he kept sobbing and whining at every pause), tofts,
crofts, mosses, muirs--outfield,
infield--buildings--orchards--dove-cots--with the right of net and coble
in the water and loch of Veolan--teinds, parsonage and vicarage--annexis,
connexis--rights of pasturage--feul, feal and divot--parts, pendicles,
and pertinents whatsoever--(here he had recourse to the end of his long
cravat to wipe his eyes, which overflowed, in spite of him, at the ideas
which this technical jargon conjured up)--all as more fully described in
the proper evidents and titles thereof--and lying within the parish of
Bradwardine and the shire of Perth--if, as aforesaid, they must a' pass
from my master's child to Inch-Grabbit, wha's a Whig and a Hanoverian,
and be managed by his doer, Jamie Howie, wha's no fit to be a birlieman,
let be a bailie--'
The beginning of this lamentation really had something affecting, but the
conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. 'Never mind, Bailie,' said
Ensign Maccombich, 'for the gude auld times of rugging and riving
(pulling and tearing) are come back again, an' Sneckus Mac-Snackus
(meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), and a' the rest of your friends,
maun gie place to the langest claymore.'
'And that claymore shall be ours, Bailie,' said the Chieftain, who saw
that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation.
'We'll give them the metal our mountain affords,
Lillibulero, bullen a la,
And in place of broad-pieces, we'll pay with broadswords,
Lero, lero, etc.
With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score,
Lillibulero, etc.
For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more,
Lero, lero, etc.
[Footnote: These lines, or something like them, occur in an old magazine
of the period.]
But come, Bailie, be not cast down; drink your wine with a joyous heart;
the Baron shall return safe and victorious to Tully-Veolan, and unite
Killancureit's lairdship with his own, since the cowardly half-bred swine
will not turn out for the Prince like a gentleman.'
'To be sure, they lie maist ewest,' said the Bailie, wiping his eyes,
'and should naturally fa' under the same factory.'
'And I,' proceeded the Chieftain,'shall take care of myself, too; for you
must know, I have to complete a good work here, by bringing Mrs.
Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic church, or at least half way,
and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house. O Baron! if you heard her
fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and Matty in the morning, you, who
understand music, would tremble at the idea of hearing her shriek in the
psalmody of Haddo's Hole.'
'Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on! But I hope your honours will
tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun gang and mask it for
you.'
So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own conversation,
which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon the approaching events
of the campaign.
CHAPTER XIV
THE BALL
Ensign MacCombich having gone to the Highland camp upon duty, and Bailie
Macwheeble having retired to digest his dinner and Evan Dhu's intimation
of martial law in some blind change-house, Waverley, with the Baron and
the Chieftain, proceeded to Holyrood House. The two last were in full
tide of spirits, and the Baron rallied in his way our hero upon the
handsome figure which his new dress displayed to advantage. 'If you have
any design upon the heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, I would premonish
you, when you address her, to remember and quote the words of
Virgilius:--
Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes;
whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan Donnochy (unless the
claims of Lude ought to be preferred primo loco), has thus elegantly
rendered:--
For cruel love had gartan'd low my leg,
And clad my hurdies in a philabeg.
Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve maist of
the twa, as mair ancient and seemly.' 'Or rather,' said Fergus, 'hear my
song:--
She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
Nor be an English lady;
But she's away with Duncan Grame,
And he's row'd her in his plaidy.'
By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, and were announced
respectively as they entered the apartments.
It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, education, and
fortune took a concern in the ill-fated and desperate undertaking of
1745. The ladies, also, of Scotland very generally espoused the cause of
the gallant and handsome young Prince, who threw himself upon the mercy
of his countrymen rather like a hero of romance than a calculating
politician. It is not, therefore, to be wondered that Edward, who had
spent the greater part of his life in the solemn seclusion of
Waverley-Honour, should have been dazzled at the liveliness and elegance
of the scene now exhibited in the long deserted halls of the Scottish
palace. The accompaniments, indeed, fell short of splendour, being such
as the confusion and hurry of the time admitted; still, however, the
general effect was striking, and, the rank of the company considered,
might well be called brilliant.
It was not long before the lover's eye discovered the object of his
attachment. Flora Mac-Ivor was in the act of returning to her seat, near
the top of the room, with Rose Bradwardine by her side. Among much
elegance and beauty, they had attracted a great degree of the public
attention, being certainly two of the handsomest women present. The
Prince took much notice of both, particularly of Flora, with whom he
danced, a preference which she probably owed to her foreign education and
command of the French and Italian languages.
When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance permitted, Edward
almost intuitively followed Fergus to the place where Miss Mac-Ivor was
seated. The sensation of hope with which he had nursed his affection in
absence of the beloved object seemed to vanish in her presence, and, like
one striving to recover the particulars of a forgotten dream, he would
have given the world at that moment to have recollected the grounds on
which he had founded expectations which now seemed so delusive. He
accompanied Fergus with downcast eyes, tingling ears, and the feelings of
the criminal who, while the melancholy cart moves slowly through the
crowds that have assembled to behold his execution, receives no clear
sensation either from the noise which fills his ears or the tumult on
which he casts his wandering look. Flora seemed a little--a very
little--affected and discomposed at his approach. 'I bring you an adopted
son of Ivor,' said Fergus.
'And I receive him as a second brother,' replied Flora.
There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would have escaped every
ear but one that was feverish with apprehension. It was, however,
distinctly marked, and, combined with her whole tone and manner, plainly
intimated, 'I will never think of Mr. Waverley as a more intimate
connexion.' Edward stopped, bowed, and looked at Fergus, who bit his lip,
a movement of anger which proved that he also had put a sinister
interpretation on the reception which his sister had given his friend.
'This, then, is an end of my day-dream!' Such was Waverley's first
thought, and it was so exquisitely painful as to banish from his cheek
every drop of blood.
'Good God!' said Rose Bradwardine, 'he is not yet recovered!'
These words, which she uttered with great emotion, were overheard by the
Chevalier himself, who stepped hastily forward, and, taking Waverley by
the hand, inquired kindly after his health, and added that he wished to
speak with him. By a strong and sudden effort; which the circumstances
rendered indispensable, Waverley recovered himself so far as to follow
the Chevalier in silence to a recess in the apartment.
Here the Prince detained him some time, asking various questions about
the great Tory and Catholic families of England, their connexions, their
influence, and the state of their affections towards the house of Stuart.
To these queries Edward could not at any time have given more than
general answers, and it may be supposed that, in the present state of his
feelings, his responses were indistinct even to confusion. The Chevalier
smiled once or twice at the incongruity of his replies, but continued the
same style of conversation, although he found himself obliged to occupy
the principal share of it, until he perceived that Waverley had recovered
his presence of mind. It is probable that this long audience was partly
meant to further the idea which the Prince desired should be entertained
among his followers, that Waverley was a character of political
influence. But it appeared, from his concluding expressions, that he had
a different and good-natured motive, personal to our hero, for prolonging
the conference. 'I cannot resist the temptation,' he said, 'of boasting
of my own discretion as a lady's confidant. You see, Mr. Waverley, that I
know all, and I assure you I am deeply interested in the affair. But, my
good young friend, you must put a more severe restraint upon your
feelings. There are many here whose eyes can see as clearly as mine, but
the prudence of whose tongues may not be equally trusted,'
So saying, he turned easily away and joined a circle of officers at a few
paces' distance, leaving Waverley to meditate upon his parting
expression, which, though not intelligible to him in its whole purport,
was sufficiently so in the caution which the last word recommended.
Making, therefore, an effort to show himself worthy of the interest which
his new master had expressed, by instant obedience to his recommendation,
he walked up to the spot where Flora and Miss Bradwardine were still
seated, and having made his compliments to the latter, he succeeded, even
beyond his own expectation, in entering into conversation upon general
topics.
If, my dear reader, thou hast ever happened to take post-horses at----or
at----(one at least of which blanks, or more probably both, you will be
able to fill up from an inn near your own residence), you must have
observed, and doubtless with sympathetic pain, the reluctant agony with
which the poor jades at first apply their galled necks to the collars of
the harness. But when the irresistible arguments of the post-boy have
prevailed upon them to proceed a mile or two, they will become callous to
the first sensation; and being warm in the harness, as the said post-boy
may term it, proceed as if their withers were altogether unwrung. This
simile so much corresponds with the state of Waverley's feelings in the
course of this memorable evening, that I prefer it (especially as being,
I trust, wholly original) to any more splendid illustration with which
Byshe's 'Art of Poetry' might supply me.
Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward; and our hero had, moreover,
other stimulating motives for persevering in a display of affected
composure and indifference to Flora's obvious unkindness. Pride, which
supplies its caustic as an useful, though severe, remedy for the wounds
of affection, came rapidly to his aid. Distinguished by the favour of a
prince; destined, he had room to hope, to play a conspicuous part in the
revolution which awaited a mighty kingdom; excelling, probably, in mental
acquirements, and equalling at least in personal accomplishments, most of
the noble and distinguished persons with whom he was now ranked; young,
wealthy, and high-born,--could he, or ought he, to droop beneath the
frown of a capricious beauty?
O nymph, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
My bosom is proud as thine own.
With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which, however, were
not then written), [Footnote: They occur in Miss Seward's fine verses,
beginning--'To thy rocks, stormy Lannow, adieu.'] Waverley determined
upon convincing Flora that he was not to be depressed by a rejection in
which his vanity whispered that perhaps she did her own prospects as much
injustice as his. And, to aid this change of feeling, there lurked the
secret and unacknowledged hope that she might learn to prize his
affection more highly, when she did not conceive it to be altogether
within her own choice to attract or repulse it. There was a mystic tone
of encouragement, also, in the Chevalier's words, though he feared they
only referred to the wishes of Fergus in favour of an union between him
and his sister. But the whole circumstances of time, place, and incident
combined at once to awaken his imagination and to call upon him for a
manly and decisive tone of conduct, leaving to fate to dispose of the
issue. Should he appear to be the only one sad and disheartened on the
eve of battle, how greedily would the tale be commented upon by the
slander which had been already but too busy with his fame! Never, never,
he internally resolved, shall my unprovoked enemies possess such an
advantage over my reputation.
Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and cheered at times by a
smile of intelligence and approbation from the Prince as he passed the
group, Waverley exerted his powers of fancy, animation, and eloquence,
and attracted the general admiration of the company. The conversation
gradually assumed the tone best qualified for the display of his talents
and acquisitions. The gaiety of the evening was exalted in character,
rather than checked, by the approaching dangers of the morrow. All nerves
were strung for the future, and prepared to enjoy the present. This mood
of mind is highly favourable for the exercise of the powers of
imagination, for poetry, and for that eloquence which is allied to
poetry. Waverley, as we have elsewhere observed, possessed at times a
wonderful flow of rhetoric; and on the present occasion, he touched more
than once the higher notes of feeling, and then again ran off in a wild
voluntary of fanciful mirth. He was supported and excited by kindred
spirits, who felt the same impulse of mood and time; and even those of
more cold and calculating habits were hurried along by the torrent. Many
ladies declined the dance, which still went forward, and under various
pretences joined the party to which the 'handsome young Englishman'
seemed to have attached himself. He was presented to several of the first
rank, and his manners, which for the present were altogether free from
the bashful restraint by which, in a moment of less excitation, they were
usually clouded, gave universal delight.
Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female present who regarded him
with a degree of coldness and reserve; yet even she could not suppress a
sort of wonder at talents which, in the course of their acquaintance, she
had never seen displayed with equal brilliancy and impressive effect. I
do not know whether she might not feel a momentary regret at having taken
so decisive a resolution upon the addresses of a lover who seemed fitted
so well to fill a high place in the highest stations of society.
Certainly she had hitherto accounted among the incurable deficiencies of
Edward's disposition the mauvaise honte which, as she had been educated
in the first foreign circles, and was little acquainted with the shyness
of English manners, was in her opinion too nearly related to timidity and
imbecility of disposition. But if a passing wish occurred that Waverley
could have rendered himself uniformly thus amiable and attractive, its
influence was momentary; for circumstances had arisen since they met
which rendered in her eyes the resolution she had formed respecting him
final and irrevocable.
With opposite feelings Rose Bradwardine bent her whole soul to listen.
She felt a secret triumph at the public tribute paid to one whose merit
she had learned to prize too early and too fondly. Without a thought of
jealousy, without a feeling of fear, pain, or doubt, and undisturbed by a
single selfish consideration, she resigned herself to the pleasure of
observing the general murmur of applause. When Waverley spoke, her ear
was exclusively filled with his voice, when others answered, her eye took
its turn of observation, and seemed to watch his reply. Perhaps the
delight which she experienced in the course of that evening, though
transient, and followed by much sorrow, was in its nature the most pure
and disinterested which the human mind is capable of enjoying.
'Baron,' said the Chevalier, 'I would not trust my mistress in the
company of your young friend. He is really, though perhaps somewhat
romantic, one of the most fascinating young men whom I have ever seen.'
'And by my honour, sir,' replied the Baron,'the lad can sometimes be as
dowff as a sexagenary like myself. If your Royal Highness had seen him
dreaming and dozing about the banks of Tully-Veolan like an hypochondriac
person, or, as Burton's "Anatomia" hath it, a phrenesiac or lethargic
patient, you would wonder where he hath sae suddenly acquired all this
fine sprack festivity and jocularity.'
'Truly,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, 'I think it can only be the inspiration of
the tartans; for, though Waverley be always a young fellow of sense and
honour, I have hitherto often found him a very absent and inattentive
companion.'
'We are the more obliged to him,' said the Prince, 'for having reserved
for this evening qualities which even such intimate friends had not
discovered. But come, gentlemen, the night advances, and the business of
tomorrow must be early thought upon. Each take charge of his fair
partner, and honour a small refreshment with your company.'
He led the way to another suite of apartments, and assumed the seat and
canopy at the head of a long range of tables with an air of dignity,
mingled with courtesy, which well became his high birth and lofty
pretensions. An hour had hardly flown away when the musicians played the
signal for parting so well known in Scotland. [Footnote: Which is, or was
wont to be, the old air of 'Good-night and joy be wi' you a'.]
'Good-night, then,' said the Chevalier, rising; 'goodnight, and joy be
with you! Good-night, fair ladies, who have so highly honoured a
proscribed and banished Prince! Good-night, my brave friends; may the
happiness we have this evening experienced be an omen of our return to
these our paternal halls, speedily and in triumph, and of many and many
future meetings of mirth and pleasure in the palace of Holyrood!'
When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mentioned this adieu of the
Chevalier, he never failed to repeat, in a melancholy tone,
'Audiit, et voti Phoebus succedere partem
Mente dedit; partem volucres dispersit in auras;
which,' as he added, 'is weel rendered into English metre by my friend
Bangour:--
Ae half the prayer wi' Phoebus grace did find,
The t'other half he whistled down the wind.'
CHAPTER XV
THE MARCH
The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of Waverley had resigned
him to late but sound repose. He was dreaming of Glennaquoich, and had
transferred to the halls of lan nan Chaistel the festal train which so
lately graced those of Holyrood. The pibroch too was distinctly heard;
and this at least was no delusion, for the 'proud step of the chief
piper' of the 'chlain Mac-Ivor' was perambulating the court before the
door of his Chieftain's quarters, and as Mrs. Flockhart, apparently no
friend to his minstrelsy, was pleased to observe, 'garring the very
stane-and-lime wa's dingle wi' his screeching.' Of course it soon became
too powerful for Waverley's dream, with which it had at first rather
harmonised.
The sound of Callum's brogues in his apartment (for Mac-Ivor had again
assigned Waverley to his care) was the next note of parting. 'Winna yer
honour bang up? Vich lan Vohr and ta Prince are awa to the lang green
glen ahint the clachan, tat they ca' the King's Park, [Footnote: The main
body of the Highland army encamped, or rather bivouacked, in that part of
the King's Park which lies towards the village of Duddingston.] and mony
ane's on his ain shanks the day that will be carried on ither folk's ere
night.'
Waverley sprung up, and, with Callum's assistance and instructions,
adjusted his tartans in proper costume. Callum told him also,' tat his
leather dorlach wi' the lock on her was come frae Doune, and she was awa
again in the wain wi' Vich Ian Vohr's walise.'
By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his portmanteau was
intended. He thought upon the mysterious packet of the maid of the
cavern, which seemed always to escape him when within his very grasp. But
this was no time for indulgence of curiosity; and having declined Mrs.
Flockhart's compliment of a MORNING, i.e. a matutinal dram, being
probably the only man in the Chevalier's army by whom such a courtesy
would have been rejected, he made his adieus and departed with Callum.
'Callum,' said he, as they proceeded down a dirty close to gain the
southern skirts of the Canongate, 'what shall I do for a horse?'
'Ta deil ane ye maun think o',' said Callum. 'Vich Ian Vohr's marching on
foot at the head o' his kin (not to say ta Prince, wha does the like),
wi' his target on his shoulder; and ye maun e'en be neighbour-like.'
'And so I will, Callum, give me my target; so, there we are fixed. How
does it look?'
'Like the bra' Highlander tat's painted on the board afore the mickle
change-house they ca' Luckie Middlemass's,' answered Callum; meaning, I
must observe, a high compliment, for in his opinion Luckie Middlemass's
sign was an exquisite specimen of art. Waverley, however, not feeling the
full force of this polite simile, asked him no further questions.
Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty suburbs of the
metropolis, and emerging into the open air, Waverley felt a renewal of
both health and spirits, and turned his recollection with firmness upon
the events of the preceding evening, and with hope and resolution towards
those of the approaching day.
When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence called St. Leonard's Hill,
the King's Park, or the hollow between the mountain of Arthur's Seat and
the rising grounds on which the southern part of Edinburgh is now built,
lay beneath him, and displayed a singular and animating prospect. It was
occupied by the army of the Highlanders, now in the act of preparing for
their march. Waverley had already seen something of the kind at the
hunting-match which he attended with Fergus Mac-Ivor; but this was on a
scale of much greater magnitude, and incomparably deeper interest. The
rocks, which formed the background of the scene, and the very sky itself,
rang with the clang of the bagpipers, summoning forth, each with his
appropriate pibroch, his chieftain and clan. The mountaineers, rousing
themselves from their couch under the canopy of heaven with the hum and
bustle of a confused and irregular multitude, like bees alarmed and
arming in their hives, seemed to possess all the pliability of movement
fitted to execute military manoeuvres. Their motions appeared spontaneous
and confused, but the result was order and regularity; so that a general
must have praised the conclusion, though a martinet might have ridiculed
the method by which it was attained.
The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty arrangements of the
various clans under their respective banners, for the purpose of getting
into the order of march, was in itself a gay and lively spectacle. They
had no tents to striket having generally, and by choice, slept upon the
open field, although the autumn was now waning and the nights began to be
frosty. For a little space, while they were getting into order, there was
exhibited a changing, fluctuating, and confused appearance of waving
tartans and floating plumes, and of banners displaying the proud
gathering word of Clanronald, Ganion Coheriga (Gainsay who dares),
Loch-Sloy, the watchword of the MacFarlanes; Forth, fortune, and fill the
fetters, the motto of the Marquis of Tullibardine; Bydand, that of Lord
Lewis Gordon, and the appropriate signal words and emblems of many other
chieftains and clans.
At length the mixed and wavering multitude arranged themselves into a
narrow and dusky column of great length, stretching through the whole
extent of the valley. In the front of the column the standard of the
Chevalier was displayed, bearing a red cross upon a white ground, with
the motto Tandem Triumphans. The few cavalry, being chiefly Lowland
gentry, with their domestic servants and retainers, formed the advanced
guard of the army; and their standards, of which they had rather too many
in respect of their numbers, were seen waving upon the extreme verge of
the horizon. Many horsemen of this body, among whom Waverley accidentally
remarked Balmawhapple and his lieutenant, Jinker (which last, however,
had been reduced, with several others, by the advice of the Baron of
Bradwardine, to the situation of what he called reformed officers, or
reformadoes), added to the liveliness, though by no means to the
regularity, of the scene, by galloping their horses as fast forward as
the press would permit, to join their proper station in the van. The
fascinations of the Circes of the High Street, and the potations of
strength with which they had been drenched over night, had probably
detained these heroes within the walls of Edinburgh somewhat later than
was consistent with their morning duty. Of such loiterers, the prudent
took the longer and circuitous, but more open, route to attain their
place in the march, by keeping at some distance from the infantry, and
making their way through the inclosures to the right, at the expense of
leaping over or pulling down the drystone fences. The irregular
appearance and vanishing of these small parties of horsemen, as well as
the confusion occasioned by those who endeavoured, though generally
without effect, to press to the front through the crowd of Highlanders,
maugre their curses, oaths, and opposition, added to the picturesque
wildness what it took from the military regularity of the scene.
While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, rendered yet more
impressive by the occasional discharge of cannon-shot from the Castle at
the Highland guards as they were withdrawn from its vicinity to join
their main body, Callum, with his usual freedom of interference, reminded
him that Vich lan Vohr's folk were nearly at the head of the column of
march which was still distant, and that 'they would gang very fast after
the cannon fired.' Thus admonished, Waverley walked briskly forward, yet
often casting a glance upon the darksome clouds of warriors who were
collected before and beneath him. A nearer view, indeed, rather
diminished the effect impressed on the mind by the more distant
appearance of the army. The leading men of each clan were well armed with
broad-sword, target, and fusee, to which all added the dirk, and most the
steel pistol. But these consisted of gentlemen, that is, relations of the
chief, however distant, and who had an immediate title to his countenance
and protection. Finer and hardier men could not have been selected out of
any army in Christendom; while the free and independent habits which each
possessed, and which each was yet so well taught to subject to the
command of his chief, and the peculiar mode of discipline adopted in
Highland warfare, rendered them equally formidable by their individual
courage and high spirit, and from their rational conviction of the
necessity of acting in unison, and of giving their national mode of
attack the fullest opportunity of success.
But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individuals of an
inferior description, the common peasantry of the Highland country, who,
although they did not allow themselves to be so called, and claimed
often, with apparent truth, to be of more ancient descent than the
masters whom they served, bore, nevertheless, the livery of extreme
penury, being indifferently accoutred, and worse armed, half naked,
stinted in growth, and miserable in aspect. Each important clan had some
of those Helots attached to them: thus, the MacCouls, though tracing
their descent from Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a sort of
Gibeonites, or hereditary servants to the Stewarts of Appin; the
Macbeths, descended from the unhappy monarch of that name, were subjects
to the Morays and clan Donnochy, or Robertsons of Athole; and many other
examples might be given, were it not for the risk of hurting any pride of
clanship which may yet be left, and thereby drawing a Highland tempest
into the shop of my publisher. Now these same Helots, though forced into
the field by the arbitrary authority of the chieftains under whom they
hewed wood and drew water, were in general very sparingly fed, ill
dressed, and worse armed. The latter circumstance was indeed owing
chiefly to the general disarming act, which had been carried into effect
ostensibly through the whole Highlands, although most of the chieftains
contrived to elude its influence by retaining the weapons of their own
immediate clansmen, and delivering up those of less value, which they
collected from these inferior satellites. It followed, as a matter of
course, that, as we have already hinted, many of these poor fellows were
brought to the field in a very wretched condition.
From this it happened that, in bodies, the van of which were admirably
well armed in their own fashion, the rear resembled actual banditti. Here
was a pole-axe, there a sword without a scabbard; here a gun without a
lock, there a scythe set straight upon a pole; and some had only their
dirks, and bludgeons or stakes pulled out of hedges. The grim, uncombed,
and wild appearance of these men, most of whom gazed with all the
admiration of ignorance upon the most ordinary productions of domestic
art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also created terror. So
little was the condition of the Highlands known at that late period that
the character and appearance of their population, while thus sallying
forth as military adventurers, conveyed to the South-Country Lowlanders
as much surprise as if an invasion of African Negroes or Esquimaux
Indians had issued forth from the northern mountains of their own native
country. It cannot therefore be wondered if Waverley, who had hitherto
judged of the Highlanders generally from the samples which the policy of
Fergus had from time to time exhibited, should have felt damped and
astonished at the daring attempt of a body not then exceeding four
thousand men, and of whom not above half the number, at the utmost, were
armed, to change the fate and alter the dynasty of the British kingdoms.
As he moved along the column, which still remained stationary, an iron
gun, the only piece of artillery possessed by the army which meditated so
important a revolution, was fired as the signal of march. The Chevalier
had expressed a wish to leave this useless piece of ordnance behind him;
but, to his surprise, the Highland chiefs interposed to solicit that it
might accompany their march, pleading the prejudices of their followers,
who, little accustomed to artillery, attached a degree of absurd
importance to this field-piece, and expected it would contribute
essentially to a victory which they could only owe to their own muskets
and broadswords. Two or three French artillerymen were therefore
appointed to the management of this military engine, which was drawn
along by a string of Highland ponies, and was, after all, only used for
the purpose of firing signals. [Footnote: See Note 31.]
No sooner was its voice heard upon the present occasion than the whole
line was in motion. A wild cry of joy from the advancing batallions rent
the air, and was then lost in the shrill clangour of the bagpipes, as the
sound of these, in their turn, was partially drowned by the heavy tread
of so many men put at once into motion. The banners glittered and shook
as they moved forward, and the horse hastened to occupy their station as
the advanced guard, and to push on reconnoitring parties to ascertain and
report the motions of the enemy. They vanished from Waverley's eye as
they wheeled round the base of Arthur's Seat, under the remarkable ridge
of basaltic rocks which fronts the little lake of Duddingston.
The infantry followed in the same direction, regulating their pace by
another body which occupied a road more to the southward. It cost Edward
some exertion of activity to attain the place which Fergus's followers
occupied in the line of march.
CHAPTER XVI
AN INCIDENT GIVES RISE TO UNAVAILING REFLECTIONS
When Waverley reached that part of the column which was filled by the
clan of Mac-Ivor, they halted, formed, and received him with a triumphant
flourish upon the bagpipes and a loud shout of the men, most of whom knew
him personally, and were delighted to see him in the dress of their
country and of their sept. 'You shout,' said a Highlander of a
neighbouring clan to Evan Dhu, 'as if the Chieftain were just come to
your head.'
'Mar e Bran is e a brathair, If it be not Bran, it is Bran's brother,'
was the proverbial reply of Maccombich. [Footnote: Bran, the well-known
dog of Fingal. is often the theme of Highland proverb as well as song.]
'O, then, it is the handsome Sassenach duinhe-wassel that is to be
married to Lady Flora?'
'That may be, or it may not be; and it is neither your matter nor mine,
Gregor.'
Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford him a warm and
hearty welcome; but he thought it necessary to apologize for the
diminished numbers of his battalion (which did not exceed three hundred
men) by observing he had sent a good many out upon parties.
The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald Bean Lean had
deprived him of at least thirty hardy fellows, whose services he had
fully reckoned upon, and that many of his occasional adherents had been
recalled by their several chiefs to the standards to which they most
properly owed their allegiance. The rival chief of the great northern
branch, also, of his own clan had mustered his people, although he had
not yet declared either for the government or for the Chevalier, and by
his intrigues had in some degree diminished the force with which Fergus
took the field. To make amends for these disappointments, it was
universally admitted that the followers of Vich Ian Vohr, in point of
appearance, equipment, arms, and dexterity in using them, equalled the
most choice troops which followed the standard of Charles Edward. Old
Ballenkeiroch acted as his major; and, with the other officers who had
known Waverley when at Glennaquoich, gave our hero a cordial reception,
as the sharer of their future dangers and expected honours.
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